Pieces
by Cat 2
Summary: They need Frank Bishop to solve this case. So he has to ask him to do what he's not brave enough to do. Missing scene from the Shreds fell like snowflakes
1. Chapter 1

He felt guilty being here.

He was asking Frank to do what he wasn't brave enough to do. To go back.

He didn't bother knocking or waiting for Francine to let him in. He had his own key, had done since hearing.

It wasn't anything formal, just the knowledge that when the job was threatening to get too much for him, he could go there and Frank would give him a fake fruit juice and let him bounce ideas off him. or if he didn't feel like talking, just let him sit there, on the red beanbag playing video games, no questions asked.

Normally he just barged straight in, knowing that the door was unlocked, but today something stopped him and he knocked.

"Anza." Frank flung open the door. He didn't look surprised, only hurt. Like he had done the first time Joe had done this, after the hearing.

"Might have known that Vallejo would send you."

"He doesn't know I'm here." He waited, just standing there until Frank apparently decided he was telling the truth and stepped to one side, letting him in.

"So what do you want, Anza?" He asked, sitting down by the game. Joe screwed his courage.

"I came to ask to come in on the shredder case."

Frank snorted. "Not going to happen. Vallejo_"

"This isn't about Vallejo." He forced himself to calm down. "There's something screwy about this case."  
He waited. One, two...Frank got to his feet. "Alright Anza." He said, picking up two bottles with a lemon on the side and chucking one to Anza. "Let's hear what you remember."  
Frank was the only person who knew that Anza had been a profiler himself before he transferred to X. He'd just come up to Joe's desk one day and stated it, while Vallejo was holed up with Calvin, the previous Junior Commissioner.

* * *

"_That was some good work today."_

_Anza kept his eyes on the computer, filling in the report. He didn't want to talk to Frank, or to anyone really. Today had cut too close, reminding him why he had to be careful. It was too tempting to go down that route again._

"_Only one question. How did you know the perp was going to be at the swings rather than the monkey bars?"_

_He knew. The shocking realisation made his heart beat faster, though he managed to keep it out of his voice._

"_Lucky guess."_

_Frank snorted "Predicting where Daniels would run, that might be a lucky guess. Today..." He shook his head. "That was someone whose being trained to get inside a perp's head." Frank's eyes were cold. "You're a profiler."_

"_You've got the wrong guy." He picked up a folder and made to head for the filing cabinet, but Frank cut him off. "I've seen your file. Your Commissioner was very positive about you, but carefully avoided giving specifics."_

_Thank you White. He shrugged. "It was a big school and a big Safety Patrol."_

"_Not so big that your commissioner can't remember any of the cases you were involved with. Or look them up." _

_Anza pushed past him. Bishop called after him._

"_I spoke to your old partner."_

_Scarlet. He froze._

"_She was a little blunt with me, until I assured her I wasn't trying to get you into trouble. Just concerned." Frank was beside him now. "She told me what happened. About the hostage situation which went wrong. About what went down there."_

_If he closed his eyes, he could still see it. Still smell the sickening scent of soda in the air, still see Scarlet's fingers scratching blindly at the air, as she was loading into the ambulance, apologising, even though it wasn't her fault. See the nurse bandaging up the innocents, who were too close when the bomb went off._

"_It wasn't your fault, Joseph." Bishop's hand was on his shoulder. "You were just trying to help. To get that kid out."_

"_I Should have known better." Anza's voice was bitter. "Should have waited for the guys from Central."_

"_Scarlet doesn't blame you."_

"_She should." He slammed the filing cabinet door. "She was a rookie. I was supposed to protect her."_

"_I said I'd try and get her to call you."_

"_Not going to happen."_

_Frank had the sense to recognise a battle he couldn't win._

"_o.k." he paused head on one side. "It was good move, changing the s to a z. The sort of error an over stretch administrator might make."_

_Joe found himself smiling. "That's what it was, initially. I always meant to correct it, but..."_

"_But being the patrol's profiler doesn't leave much time for academic battles." They both laughed, confusing Vallejo, who'd just come out of the office._

* * *

They'd become friends after that, though no one would have known it.

Few, including Vallejo were interested in profiling, besides the obvious results.

Profilers were trained to get inside of perps, but you had to be careful you didn't get lost in there. The balance between the two led to most profilers being isolated, even from their partners.

Unfortunately, few patrol could afford the time and sorting needed to train two profilers, meaning most worked isolation.

Which was possibly why Profilers accounted for 68% of all Safety Patrol breakdowns. A statistic the counsellor White had given him the name of, after he took his badge, had given him.

* * *

"_Nothing would make me happier than giving this back to you, Joe." White learnt over, his brown eyes staring into Anza's own, as he pulled the orange fluorescent slash and the gold plated badge back towards him and put them in the safe. "But at the moment you're a risk to yourself and to the force. Get some help. Please." He shoved the card into Joe's hand. "For Scarlet's sake, if not for your own." Though the blinds Joe could see Scarlet watching nervously, the red marks still visible around her eyes, even though the hospital reassured them that the burns had been superficial._

* * *

He was grateful to White, for that and for his lies. When even he hadn't cared what happened to him, White had still had his back. And when he wanted to rejoin the patrol, White had emphasised his successes, with out mentioning his failure.

But even White's counsellor couldn't convince him to start Profiling again. He couldn't go back there. Couldn't be that alone again.

Frank and Vallejo always seemed the exception, until you actually dug below the surface. Then Vallejo had been pulling away from Frank, even before the Gazpacho incident. Frank had been confused by it, and responded by working harder, making the estrangement, as Vallejo tried to set himself up independently in readiness for Calvin 's graduation, worse.

Vallejo was a good partner, but he was also ambitious. Being partners with a profiler made it difficult to get credit. Rationally, both Joe and Frank understood that was the reason for him striking out alone, going after perps without Frank. But rational kinda broke down where feelings were involved.

"The Perp started with Origami, before plain paper sheets. That suggests that this isn't a thrill shredder, working his way up to the ultimate. This is someone with a reason." Frank nodded, head on one side. Joe smiled to himself. He'd been a good profiler, he admitted that, but Frank was the best.

"There's no obvious connection between the victims, but it's being less than 24 hours and Students at X do tend to belong to a lot of extra curricular activities, so tracking them down can take a while.

"The first victim was female, so that suggest that the perp is too, though it's not a hard and fast rule." Frank nodded, taking a sip of his juice. It was one area they disagreed on.

"The shreds in the Gina Abbots case were to the right to left, but in Lorenzo's case it was left to right." He paused. "That suggest the perp is ambidextrous, or we're dealing with a copy cat."

"So what's screwy?"

Joe sighed. It sounded so weak when said out loud. "Gina is right handed. You could tell that from the folds on the Origami. Lorenzo is left handed. When I offered him the pen, he took with his left hand instinctively."

"You think they shred their own projects?"

Joe shrugged, embarrassed. "There's nothing to obvious to suggest that." He said, slowly. "I did mention to Tehama that shredding your project is a good way to avoid a failing grade, but there was nothing to suggest it, and it was really their projects that were shredded, but..." He let it trail off. Frank was a profiler, he understood about 90% was gut.

"So why you want me?" Frank asked, moving over to the games console. "Just do what you usually do. Drop Fillmore and Third enough hints until they figure it out for themselves."

"Because..." There was a lot he wanted to say, _Because I'm good, but I'm not you, because Vallejo needs you back on the force, because if I do this, then the others will wise up, Tehama's already looking at me strangely, _but he knew it wouldn't do any good, so he went for the reason that he knew might. "Because while Fillmore and Third are figuring out those clues, other kids will get hurt. Either because of the Shredder, because we get a copy cat on our hands or because all our resources are going to be plugged into this case. But mostly, because what ever you said to Fillmore and Third, you are involved. You're curious."  
"Bullshit."

"Really?" Joe was on his feet, staring at the other man. "Tell me that you won't be at the science fair tomorrow if only to see that Fillmore and Third took your hint? Tell me you don't still turn automatically when a kid cries or you see a flash of orange? Tell that you didn't give Fillmore and Third that clue, cause you worried about those kids getting hurt? Tell me I've got one bit of that wrong, and I'll never bring it up again!" He was shouting, he realised that as there was a knock on the door.

"Frank is everything alright?"  
Francine. Joe got to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow, Frank." He said, carefully side stepping around the younger girl. "I've got the stake out."

TBC (?)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"I'm sorry." He wasn't sure what he expected, when he'd come over, but he knew he had to do this.

"For what?" Frank's voice was calm, as he lunged empty pizza boxes towards the trash can. "For not suspecting her? Joe no one did, not even me until I saw the poster." He flung the boxes into the trashcan and in an explosive movement, suddenly punched them.

"Christ, I should have known Joe, I live in the same house as her, I should have known!" he punched the boxes again, swearing as his knuckles caught the edge of the can and began to bleed.

Joe moved cautiously forward.

Profilers were often said to be arrogant and there was certainly a ring of truth in that. When everyone, from the Junior Commissioner to the newest Rookie said that you were vital to cracking a case, it was hard not to believe them, to get arrogant.

But that arrogance also masked a darker side to profilers. His counsellor had told him that profilers were nearly twice as likely to be middle children as any other position on the force. Frank was the eldest, but that didn't change the physiological make up.  
Insecure, uncertain, compassionate. Empathetic.

What Vallejo would never understand is what had hurt Frank about the case wasn't the result. Well, it was, but what Vallejo couldn't understand is that Frank would have probably left the force or been suspended even if Folsom hadn't beaten him to the punch. Chapzy Gazpacho allergy would have been on his file. Frank would have seen it.

Except he hadn't remembered it.

Profilers were supposed to be omnipotent. To know a perp better than they knew themselves, to predict what they were going to do. When you got it wrong...it stunk.

Joe knew that.

"You weren't looking." He said, softly. "She was your sister. There was no reason to."  
Frank aimed another fist at the pizza box.

"Yes there was, I just didn't want to admit it." He sighed. "When Vallejo used to come around, Francine would follow us like a stray dog. She was always talking about joining the force when she was older, always making cocoa for Vallejo."

Joe added the pieces up in his head. "She had a crush on him."

"That's one word for it." Frank ran his fingers through his hair. "I should have realised, I could have gotten her help."

"You have to want to be helped."

Frank didn't say anything, just moved over and grabbed another stack of pizza boxes. Joe made to help him, and then stopped himself. This was therapy for Frank of a sort.

"Vallejo got a second term as Junior Commissioner."

He wasn't sure what made him blurt that out, other than a desire to fill the air. Surely it was the last news Frank was going to want on top of his sister's arrest.

"I know." Joe blinked surprised as Frank piled the second stack in the trash and jerked his head towards the phone. "Vallejo called me. Told me he wished things had gone another way. And to thank me for helping him."

"Word on the street," Joe chewed on his lip. He was prying into something he had no right to, but he couldn't' stop. "Is that Vallejo's got permission from the board to hire a profiler."  
"I know." The silence reigned between them for a moment before Frank hit the trash again and yelled.

"Christ Anza, how do you cope?"

"Cope with what?"

"With not interfering. There was a file lying open on Third's desk, a chalk snatching. I..." He shook his head. "It was in my hands when they came out of Vallejo's office."

Joe paused, wondering how he could answer honestly.

Because there were too few profilers and too many cases, it was evitable that it had a bad effect on life outside of the patrol.  
For the average patroller, maintaining any form of organised activity was difficult, but for a profiler it could be impossible unless you were careful.

Ingrid had commented on Frank's activities dropping, but thankfully that big brain of hers had been too focused on what it meant as in how it fitted into their theories about Frank to notice that the dates were wrong.

That Franks involvement in the clubs, and with his friends, had been going downhill months before his suspension.

It was tempting to do that. To stay late at patrol and miss that meeting, that club that event. Eventually people started getting impatient and angry. They dropped you pretty fast

You needed a good partner as a profiler, to make you put down that file, to remind you you were late for that meeting, to keep you grounded.  
Joe's old partner had transferred and Frank had been losing Vallejo mental support, if not his physical presence.

It wasn't Vallejo's fault, not really. Joe was sure if he'd known, if he'd realised what was going on, he would have reached out. Stopped Frank falling before it had been too late.

Except he hadn't. So here they were.

"I keep a bit of the jacket I was wearing that day in a drawer." He said, softly. "And whenever I get something out, I look at it and remember why that's a bad idea." He paused. "Besides I've got Fillmore and Third, plus O'Farrell and the rest to drop clues to."

Frank shook his head.

"But that only works because no one knows. With you..."

"Everyone knows."

Joe nodded. "You want to get back in the patrol?"

He waited, until he saw the small nod of the head.

"Then do it slowly. Tell Vallejo you only want to be used on a consultant basis. Speak to the counsellors. Get back in with your old clubs. Get a partner. O'Farrell needs one."

Frank grimaced. "But he's ...O'Farrell."

"Maybe." Joe had to admit that he wouldn't want Danny as his partner either, "But he's not ambitious, he's observant" In the most bizarre way that would defy even Frank's profiling skills, "And loyal. He'll keep an eye on you. Stop you slipping under."

O'Farrell was also completely irrelevant, with sudden flashes of brilliance, which with his photography skills were the main reason he was still on the force. For Frank, or for any profiler, he would be a perfect partner.

Fillmore and Ingrid worked well together, but both were ambitious, even if they didn't realise it yet. Tehama was his partner, and she was nearly as dedicated as Frank. She would be an enabler, rather than a helper if he was still profiling. None of the others would touch Frank, and they both knew that. Danny would keep Frank grounded, and in return, he was certain Frank would do the same.

He reached down and pulled a can of Fake Fruit juice "And watch how much of this you're drinking. It's risky."

He stood for a moment as Frank nodded, before heaving the trash can on to one shoulder and pulling it down the stairs.

"And Frank?" he turned. Joe swallowed. "This time, I've got your back as well."

He watched the shy, almost nervous smile flicker across the other man's face. At times, Fillmore reminded him a lot of Frank. Both of them prickly as hell, but good guys underneath.

"Thanks Anza."

He shrugged, only wishing he'd had the courage to do that first time around.

"No problem, Bishop."


End file.
